


To the Victor, the Spoils

by VolxdoSioda



Series: FFXV Kink Meme Fills [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ardyn's seen some shit, Gen, and now Noctis has seen it too, forcible memory sharing, kinkmeme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 05:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16111394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Noctis thought he was ready.But as he's brutally kicked in the stomach by Ardyn and sent flying, his broken ribs crying out, all he's capable of thinking isthis is probably going to be the last mistake I ever make.





	To the Victor, the Spoils

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt(s): Noctis tries to use the Ring before he's ready to fight Ardyn; he fucks himself up + Ardyn takes the Ring._

Noctis thought he was ready.

He thought that with all the Arms in hand, and with the Ring of Lucii, he'd be ready to tackle Ardyn.  _Could_ tackle him, and finally bring peace to his citizens, and himself. Could reclaim the Crystal, and start putting his life back together.

But as he's brutally kicked in the stomach by Ardyn and sent flying, his broken ribs crying out, all he's capable of thinking is  _this is probably going to be the last mistake I ever make._

Because the Ring is not a kind creature; it takes and takes and takes even when the owner has nothing more to give. And Noctis, while strong, is not an immortal creature that has learned to bear its many years and scars by surviving to take on more. He is not Ardyn, who comes from a time where survival was a fight, claiming land was a fight, taking care of his people  _a fight._ He is used to violence, bedecked in its glory, used to the sharp fangs it carries and the powerful bite it bestows.

Noctis has only known the violence of a lost home, grief bound and tightly furled away, the pain of broken and splintering bonds as Gladio accuses him of negligence, of laziness, of failure.

He has fought so hard to come here, only to wind up so far away from the finish line. He knows it, and Ardyn knows it, and it burns him like Ifrit's own fire.

Noctis doesn't try to move. Can't, if he's being honest. So when Ardyn rests a foot on his back, near the base of his spine, he doesn't fight it.

That doesn't mean he doesn't scream when Ardyn puts weight, and then there's a savage  _ **crack**_ and he can't feel anything below his neck.

"My, my,  _my,_ " Ardyn drawls, his voice dark and dangerous. "Is this what passes for fighting spirit these days?"

Noctis doesn't speak. When Ardyn kicks him again, he doesn't feel it. All he feels is pain. His body rolls up against the wall, and Ardyn follows him at a predator's stalk, golden eyes burning into him. "For centuries I have waited for my replacement. For the King of Light that will  _erase_ me to be born. I cultivated plans, burned houses and bridges, slaughtered those you love most to see you writhe in agony. And this -  _this_ is to be my downfall?"

He kicks the wall next to Noctis' head. The concrete breaks.

Ardyn's foot does not.

" _This creature_ is to be my destruction?! My death?!"

Another kick. Dust flies, and bits of stone drop onto Noctis' face. He closes his eyes, begs for Ignis or Gladio or Prompto to find him. Anyone will do. He just wants  _out._

Twice more Ardyn kicks the wall, and then he steps away, breathing heavily. There's an eerie echo to the sound, and black ooze has begun to leak out of his eyes and nostrils. He steps away, muttering in a language Noctis doesn't recognize, pacing back and forth for a time.

It seems like he forgets Noctis for a handful of moments. But when he whirls abruptly, muttering finished, and fixes Noctis with an inscrutable look, his heart stutters in his chest. It seems his time is up. 

"But then again," Ardyn says, and his voice is pitched low. Almost soothing. "You're just as much a victim of all this madness as I am, aren't you pet?"

He strides over, and kneels, pulling Noctis up until he's sitting. Cups his face almost tenderly. 

"Poor, lost little Prince. This was never  _your_ war. It should never have been your war, should it? You came into this world a child like any other, with no thought in your head other than living your life. But the Astrals stole that from you, didn't they? Stole away your chance of a regular life. Of a good life, where nothing bad ever happens.  _Poor little pet."_

He strokes fingers up and down Noctis' cheek, and somehow the intensity of his warmth - whether it's false or not - is more terrifying than his rage. Noctis almost wishes he'd go back to kicking him.

"You came here seeking a fight, seeking to win a war you've barely known. Shall I show you the truth, little pet? The whole truth, from the eyes of one who was betrayed? From their first beloved  _King of Light?"_

His face comes closer, and for a second, Noctis thinks Ardyn's going to kiss him. Instead, their foreheads touch, Ardyn's golden gaze heavy as he whispers,  _"Memento."_

It feels like an invasion. Like something snaps inside his brain, and something  _ **c r a w l s**  _inside of him, and Noctis is screaming as he feels the full weight of what Ardyn has endured crash down inside of him.

"Hush pet, hush," Ardyn whispers throughout it all, stroking gentle fingers through his hair. "Hush, my darling, hush now. That's it, just let it happen. Let go, follow the memory..."

Noctis finds himself swept away from his body, his last conscious sensation being the cold press of Ardyn's body against his own.

 

**_0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0_ **

 

He stumbles back to the haven Ignis has found  sometime shortly before dawn. His clothing is torn and bloody in several spots, and every muscle in him aches, but he sees nothing as he blindly stumbles up the rocks, his legs dropping him as soon as he reaches the landing. 

He can still hear Ardyn's whispering, feel the pressure of thousands of memories inside his skull. He hates how much he craves the press of the cold body back against his own, an unspoken comfort given to him by a man that hates the blood swimming inside him. Who has orchestrated all of this for a chance to be put down like a rabid beast.

Who has seen inside him, found him lacking, and forcibly gifted him with the knowledge and power to make his vision a reality. The Ring of Lucii is no longer with him, a token taken from him by Ardyn. He doesn't know what will become of it, but he can't bring himself to care so long as the tortured wails from Ardyn's time in Angelgard are still ringing in his ears.

He curls up on the rock right there, clamps his hands over his ears, and sobs his way to sleep.


End file.
